Page 17 of Her Passionate Hero

At the sound of his laughter, Aliana realized what she had done, and released him, stumbling backward. He caught her before she fell.

“Hey, what’s going on?”

“I shouldn’t have hugged you.”

“Sure you should have, how else would I have known you liked the present?”

He totally confused her.

“Sit back down. I have one more thing for you.”

She sat back down on the swing, and he crouched down in front of her and pulled an envelope out of his pocket. “Can you promise me, not to read this until after I leave?”

“I don’t understand. Why?”

“Just promise, okay.” He took her hand and wrapped it around the envelope. “Swear.”

She looked into his intent brown eyes, “I swear to God, Hunter.”

“Thank you.”

Aliana pulled the long chain from around her neck and pulled up the St. Rita medal, staring at it for long minutes. She had bought the chain after she’d been teased about the medallion. Now, she was glad because it rested against her heart. Aliana went to her dresser and took her Bible out of her drawer, opening it to the page where her sunflower was pressed. She stroked it with her finger before putting it back. She opened up her purse and pulled out a lined paper out of her wallet, Hunter’s letter. His bold printing was faded from all the times she had touched the words. She read it once again, then again, and put it back, too. Her ritual complete, she got back under the covers.

“It’s a dream. A dream,” she said in Czech. “There are no knights for you. You are nothing but a responsibility that kills men’s dreams.”

Chapter Three

Two days later, she was still thinking about knights and fairies. It seemed they attracted one another, and it was a bright spot in her day to think about it. Aliana had gone and visited her mother. Today had been a red-letter day. Her mother had recognized her when she was brushing her hair.

“Love,” she said in Czech. “You should wear your hair down, it’s so pretty.”

Aliana had to fight back tears. She’d never told her mother why she’d started wearing her hair up. Now, it was habit. Her mother had hated it up. She loved Aliana’s hair, called it her crowning glory.

“I know it’s pretty, it’s because it’s like yours, Mama.”

“Take it down,” she asked. “I want to see it.”

“Sure.” If doing that little thing would bring a smile to Danica Novak’s face, she would do it. Hell, she’d do cartwheels if her mother asked. She pulled out the bobby pins holding it up, then bent at the waist and ran her fingers through it before swinging her head backward. She had to admit, she always felt better when the weight of her hair wasn’t on her head. It felt good loose.

“You’re beautiful.”

“Thank you, Mama, but you’re biased.” She picked up the brush again and started to softly brush her mother’s fine white hair.

“Can you put lotion on?”

“Sure can.”

She opened up the drawer beside the bed. “What kind, Mama?”

“Rose.”

She took out the rose lotion and was assaulted by the smell. Images flashed in front of her face. So much blood. She shoved it down. Down. She was here with her mother, she needed to concentrate on the here and now.

“That feels so good,” her mother said when she rubbed the moisturizer into her palms and fingers. “I’m tired now, Baby.”

“I love you, Mama.”

“You’re my beautiful girl. Always remember, Love. You’re beautiful.”